


Something Wrong With Me

by carryaworld



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - no one skates, Anxiety, Dance Teacher!Yuuri, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Role Reversal, Victor is... trying his best, Yuri Plisteky and his potty mouth, and Victor is the mess, featuring everyone figuring their lives out, in which Yuuri manages his anxiety, with just a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 04:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryaworld/pseuds/carryaworld
Summary: Victor's at a turning point in his life, trying to find his place in the world when he meets Yuuri, a dance teacher with a giving heart. It's through Yuuri that he finally gets his shot at life and love.





	Something Wrong With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [same song, different dance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158357) by [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite). 

> I absolutely adore crossroadswrite's dance teacher Yuuri, and he hung around long enough in my brain that this came together. I hope you don't mind me borrowing him! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun switching their roles around and I hope you guys enjoy <3

Yuuri gets a lot of fulfillment from teaching his amateur adult dance class. 

They don’t bring in as much as when he privately tutors the young prodigies, but that’s not the point. 

At twenty-three, Yuuri is young by definition. He doesn’t, however, always feel that way. Years of learning to adapt to his anxiety have altered his world view — shifted the way he looks at things. 

He still loves teaching the youngsters who hunger for knowledge and vibrate with energy. But Yuuri has a soft spot for his older crowd. 

This is a beginning for them too, although a much different one. Whereas the youngsters have the potential of a career ahead of them, the elders do it for the sheer enjoyment of the thing. 

They range in age from late twenties all the way to the seventy year old woman who sometimes puts Yuuri to shame. 

“I competed back in the day, if you can believe that,” she’d confided to him one evening as he closed up the studio after class. “Now I do it because it brings me joy.” 

There was a pause, and a wicked grin pulled at her mouth. “And because my doctor says that if I stop moving, the arthritis will get me for good.” 

Her words have stuck with Yuuri, and they sometimes exchange quiet smiles during breaks. 

Late one evening Yuuri is closing after his adult class by himself, his friend and co-worker at the studio, Yuuko, having headed home for the evening. Sometimes Yuuri’s own mentor and owner of the establishment deigns grace them with her presence, but Minako has been busy lately. 

So it’s just Yuuri, wishing goodnight to each of his students as they complete their cool downs and pack up. 

Even after the last one is gone he lingers, meticulously going through his stretches. When he looks up, there’s a figure in the doorway and he nearly has a heart attack. The low light obscures the face — all Yuuri can make out is a slender, graceful figure. 

“Gah!” he gasps, tumbling over backwards. 

The figure steps into the light, hands raised placatingly. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

The figure is in fact a man, one with a shock of silver hair covering one eye, leaving Yuuri to drown in the blue depths of the other. 

To put it bluntly, he’s beautiful. 

There’s something beyond the beauty though, something Yuuri can’t quite put his finger on. It might be sadness, but it’s hard to tell. 

“It’s okay,” Yuuri breathes out, sitting up. “I was zoned out. What can I help you with?”

“If you’re closed, I can come back tomorrow,” the man babbles. “The lights were on, and the door wasn’t locked…” 

Yuuri lets him finish, brushing the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He’s a mess after a full day of teaching, and there’s nothing he wants more than to drag himself upstairs to shower and watch bad reality television with Phichit. 

But. 

This is something. Or, at least, it could be something. 

“It’s okay,” Yuuri says again, injecting a little of the reassuring tone he uses with his youngest students. “I just wrapped up a class. You’re not interrupting anything.” 

The man breathes out. 

“My name is Victor Nikiforov. I’m interested in the amateur adult dance class?” He punctuates this with a tiny smile that makes Yuuri’s heart melt. 

“Yuuri Katsuki. I teach that class,” Yuuri responds, clambering to his feet. “Actually, you just missed it. We normally meet later in the evening so people can make after work.” 

“Ah, that’s a good thought,” Victor nods eagerly. 

Yuuri assesses him, now that he’s upright. “Have you ever danced before? It’s not a requirement, but I like to know where everyone is starting from.” 

He gets a sheepish smile. “I did until college. Had to stop because of my degree.” 

There’s a story there, Yuuri can feel it hanging in between the words actually spoken. 

“Well, we meet again on Wednesday night at seven if you want to give it a try?” Yuuri offers. “We generally let people do a trial run of a class or two before they decide if it’s something they want to stick with.”

Victor straightens then, flipping his bangs out of his face. It’s astounding to be the full focus of that gaze, and Yuuri’s knees feel wobbly from something other than dancing. 

“I’ll be here! I’m looking forward to dancing with you, Yuuri!” 

Yuuri blinks, bewildered by the sudden appearance of cheer, but Victor is out the door before he can process it, waving over his shoulder. 

Huh. 

* 

Yuuri climbs the stairs with heavy legs, barely resisting collapsing onto the couch in order to make it to the shower instead. 

“Yuuri, dinner will be ready in fifteen,” Phichit hollers through the door. 

“Okay!” Yuuri calls back, halfway through shampooing his hair. 

Phichit is an absolute blessing of a roommate. He likes to tease, yes, but all together they get along well. 

Yuuri has worked hard at getting his anxiety to a manageable level, but there are still some days that he needs a shoulder to lean on. Phichit is very good at being that shoulder. 

They’ve been friends since meeting in college, both completing their majors in dance. Phichit is still in school, seeing as he’s a full three years younger than Yuuri. 

He’ll go far, Yuuri has no doubt. But for now, they’re content living above the studio. It works for both of them. 

“Thanks for cooking, Phichit,” Yuuri sighs gratefully. “When the semester starts, I promise I’ll return the favor.” 

Phichit grins as he passes Yuuri a plate. “I’ll hold you to that. You know I love katsudon, even if it’s not as much as you do.” 

Yuuri snorts and takes his plate to the couch, Phichit right behind him. Phichit’s favorite Monday night reality show blares on the television, gracing Yuuri with an hour to get his thoughts together. 

“I think I’m getting a new student in my adult class,” he tells Phichit when the program ends, and something neither of them care about comes on.

“Oh?” Phichit asks, immediately interested. “Are they cute?” 

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “He’s cute, but… a little strange.” 

Phichit snatches up the remote and hits the mute button. “Spill, Yuuri!” 

“Phichit,” Yuuri complains, hugging a throw pillow to his chest. “He has a Russian accent, now that I think about it. But I don’t know. Do you ever just look into someone’s eyes and  _ know _ ?”

“No Yuuri, I don’t,” Phichit says seriously. “Because that’s the vaguest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Yuuri beats him over the head with the pillow and the conversation is forgotten as things escalate into an all out war. 

*

Victor exhales shakily into Makkachin’s fur as the pup barrels him over. Stopping at the dance studio meant that he got home later than usual, delaying Makkachin’s nighttime walk. 

“Sorry baby,” he murmurs, letting Makkachin cover one whole side of his face in slobber. “I think I’m going to like dance class. Yuuri seems nice.” 

Makkachin, of course, doesn’t understand a word he’s saying, but bounces along happily anyway as Victor measures out his dinner. 

The two of them eat: Makkachin inhaling his dry food, and Victor thoughtfully chewing on leftovers from the night before.

Victor doesn’t love the silence of the apartment, so the television plays on low volume in the other room. 

He has a lot to think about on their nightly walk. He’s excited about the adult dance classes, but it’s also opening a door that has long been closed. Quitting dance in college is something he’ll always regret. Returning to it in this pivotal time in his life could make or break him. 

And Yuuri. Yuuri is cute, cute and steady in a way that Victor can tell that he worked for. It’s easy to sense when Victor is striving for the same thing. 

It might work, it might not. Yuuri was frank about the trial period, which Victor appreciated. But it’s not the physical side of it he worries about. That he’s proven he can handle. 

The mental strain will be the challenge. What if he doesn’t love it like he used to? What if dance is destined to be just another gray thing in his life?

*

Victor shows up to the Wednesday night class. 

Yuuri is admittedly a little surprised — he’d seemed like the type to do things on a whim. But no. He shows, and Yuuri finds himself astounded by his form. 

It’s evident that he hasn’t danced seriously for a long time, but he’s a natural. Yuuri’s other adult students clamor for introductions, and he gives them a moment to talk before he gets things started. 

Victor slots into the class naturally, and Yuuri catches a few of the younger students eyeing him appreciatively. The group of them have become friends, and sometimes even Yuuri gets invited to go out with them. 

He generally declines, citing his schedule, but it’s nice to know that he’s wanted. 

“You did well, considering you haven’t danced in a while,” Yuuri says as they meticulously go through cool down stretches. 

He didn’t work nearly as hard as the class did this time, but since he’d spent the afternoon training on his own, it still felt nice to stretch out. 

“I’m very rusty,” Victor demures with a charming smile. “It feels good to be back, though. You’re amazing, Yuuri!”

Yuuri blushes furiously. “I’m not—” he protests, and is drowned out by the collective disagreement of his class. 

Victor’s smile softens as he dips to touch his toes. “See? They agree with me.” 

Mumbling excuses under his breath, Yuuri scuttles off to assist a student. He’s never handled compliments well, and certainly isn’t going to start now, when they’re coming from a man as beautiful as Victor.

*   
  


To Yuuri’s tremulous pleasure, Victor keeps coming back. He becomes a fixture in the class as much as the rest, even though he’s far more talented than most of them.

His good nature about it garners his classmates’ favor anyway, and he’s pretty popular. 

Victor tolerates the attention with polite smiles and chatter, but Yuuri notices he’s most content working at Yuuri’s side in silence. He’s more peaceful then, the lines around his face relaxed. 

Yuuri learned the first week that Victor is twenty-seven, and that he has a poodle named Makkachin whom he dotes on. It’s something they bond over, swapping pictures of their respective poodles. 

Vicchan, Yuuri’s beloved toy poodle, still lives an hour away with Yuuri’s parents. One day soon he hopes to bring Vicchan to finally live with him. 

Other than that, Yuuri doesn’t actually know much about Victor. Victor is very good at redirecting attention and deflecting questions back at Yuuri, who finds himself revealing more than he normally would. 

It’s unsettling, and only further piques Yuuri’s interest in his mysterious student. 

“If you’re interested in attending one of the master classes, I could always use someone to demonstrate pair dancing with,” Yuuri tells Victor one evening after class. 

It comes out sounding more like a date invitation than Yuuri intended, and the tips of his ears burn a merry shade of red. 

Victor glances over at him, having to flick his chin up to get his bangs out of his face. “Are you sure?” 

Yuuri’s ready to die of embarrassment, but he nods anyway. “Normally my mentor Minako would do it, but she’s traveling with a few of our master students at the moment.” 

A thoughtful silence falls as Victor removes his dance shoes and exchanges them for street appropriate footwear. 

“What time is the class?” he asks at last. “If it works with my schedule, I can come by.” 

Yuuri blinks, startled that he actually agreed. “It’s at three on Thursdays.” 

Victor nods, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s that face for? You’re surprised that I would say yes to dancing with someone a beautiful as you?” 

_ That’s laying it on thick _ , Yuuri thinks as he tries not to expire from sheer mortification. But Victor’s tone is earnest. 

“Victor!” It’s supposed to be scolding, but it comes out as a squeak. Yuuri hates that he’s this easy to fluster.

The smile lines around Victor’s eyes crinkle, but he doesn’t tease any further. “I’ll be there, Yuuri.”

*

“Where is Minako-sensei?” the youngest member of Yuuri’s master class complains. “Isn’t she supposed to be here for the pair dancing?”

Yuri Plisetsky is of Russian heritage, like Victor, but he picked up on Yuuri’s respectful use of ‘sensei’ tacked on to Minako’s name. 

Yuuri looks up from where he’s finishing compiling a playlist of music that he needs for today’s class. 

“You know where she is, Yuri. The other students need her more right now,” Yuuri answers, one eyebrow arched. “And don’t worry about it, we’ll still do the pair dancing lesson today.”

“How?” Yuri asks skeptically. 

A polite knock on the door interrupts the conversation. Victor steps in, and there’s a heartbeat where everything is normal. 

And then Yuri shrieks, “ _ You?!”  _ as Victor gasps a startled, “Yuri?”

Yuuri stares at both of them. Yuri is incensed by Victor’s presence, though Yuuri can’t imagine why. 

“Plisetsky,” he snaps, reverting to his teaching voice. “Victor is here to assist me in teaching today. What’s the problem?” 

Yuri continues fuming, unable to collect the words to express himself. Victor, however, recovers. 

“Ah, we kind of know each other? We work for the same agency,” Victor says sheepishly. 

“Agency? As in, modeling?” Yuuri is confused beyond measure. 

Victor is certainly attractive enough to be a model, but that’s a personal fact Yuuri would have thought he’d know by now. 

“Yes, modeling, dumbass,” Yuri recovers his voice. “But old men should give up already.” 

Yuuri’s not sure what it is, but the jab elicits a change in Victor. His face closes off, shifting from the friendliness Yuuri is used to into something cold and unreachable. 

“Yuri Plisetsky, that is enough, unless you want to be running laps around the block for the duration of the class,” Yuuri grits out. 

Yuri makes a noise under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a growl and stomps out of the room. 

“He’s not wrong,” Victor says. “I intend to give up modeling as soon as I no longer need it to pay the bills.” 

Yuuri’s lips flatten into a thin line. “Regardless of who’s right and wrong, he knows better than to behave like that in my studio space.” 

The cool expression on Victor’s face softens into something warmer. 

“You’re surprisingly tough, Yuuri,” he observes. 

Yuuri huffs, shaking his head. “You should meet my mentor.” 

“I’d like to.” 

The rest of the class pours in then, with a sulking Yuri at the back of the group. They get started and everyone is entertained with Yuuri using Victor as his helper. 

Victor is easy to lead, solid under his hands, and more graceful than he has any right to be. He doesn’t seem to mind being relegated to what is traditionally the female role. In fact, he’s nearly beside himself with delight when Yuuri lifts him. 

It’s unfortunate that he has to leave right at the end of class, instead of lingering like he usually does. 

“See you Monday, Yuuri!”

“Thank you again for your help, Victor!” Yuuri calls after him.

Yuri glares after Victor’s retreating back before skulking over to Yuuri. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“I don’t know that I’m the one you owe an apology to,” Yuuri says mildly. “But I expect that you don’t behave like that again in this studio.” 

He gets a heavy sigh in answer, but from Yuri, that’s a concession. More often than not, Yuuri has to remind himself that despite his talent, Yuri is still very young. 

The fifteen year old folds his legs under him and sinks to the floor gracefully. Yuuri joins him in silent stretches until Yuri works himself up to whatever he wants to say. 

“Victor bugs the shit out of me because he is so talented. He could have secured a professional gig but he just walked away from dance like it was nothing,” Yuri grumbles, so deep into a stretch that his nose brushes the floor. “He’s also a walking fucking disaster.” 

Yuuri has half a mind to correct his language, but at this point it’s a lost cause. 

“Why did he quit?”

“No one really knows. He’s been modeling for forever on the side, but he’s going to quit that too.” Yuri slides him a look as he straightens up, popping his neck. “He’s  _ old _ but he’s not old enough to have a midlife crisis.” 

Yuuri makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. That would explain a lot about why Victor hasn’t spoken much about himself. He senses that there’s something more there than just a preemptive midlife crisis, but only Victor can answer that. 

“You should be more mindful, Yuri,” he reprimands gently. “People aren’t always what they seem. It’s easy to hurt someone without meaning to.”

Yuri huffs. “That’s stupid.”

Shrugging, Yuuri gets to his feet. “I used to be in a place where someone’s hurtful language would have torn me apart. Keep it in mind.”

He leaves a shell shocked Yuri staring after him. 

Yuuri knows in his heart that Yuri is a good kid. He’s seen it plenty of times, and that prickly attitude is nothing more than a defense against getting hurt. 

The world needs a little more kindness, and Yuuri wants to do his best to facilitate it. 

*

Victor catches Yuuri watching him curiously several times in class the following Monday. While it is Yuuri’s job to monitor them and help with their form, this is different. 

“What did Yuri tell you about me?” he asks bluntly at the end, hanging back as everyone else streams out the door. 

Yuuri glances over at him, brown eyes confused until the question clicks. 

“Oh, that. I won’t apologize for him because he needs to do it himself, but he told me you were good enough to join a company before you quit.” 

Victor arches a brow. That sounds far too nice to be Yuri’s words. 

Yuuri sighs at the look and straightens his glasses. “That’s paraphrased of course. Though I’m not sure why he sounded so insulted by it.” 

“Yuri has no respect for the weak,” Victor says, voice detached and a smile mustered. “He sees a waste of talent, and that’s why he can’t stand me.” 

“I don’t think there’s a such thing as wasted talent,” Yuuri muses. “What we choose to do with our lives is our business, and it’s certainly not a weakness.” 

“It is if you run away,” Victor disagrees. 

He’s had this conversation a thousand times in his head. When he quit dance, it was because he was afraid. He caved in the face of social pressure, and now he’s paying the price. 

There’s a glint in Yuuri’s eyes that Victor can’t interpret when he looks up. 

“It’s not weakness,” Yuuri insists, his mouth setting stubbornly. “Yuri just doesn’t know better yet.” 

“Yuuri, I know my faults,” he interjects gently. 

It doesn’t appease Yuuri. 

“Can I tell you a story, Victor?” he asks, a steely edge to his voice. 

Victor isn’t sure what to expect, so he nods. They end up leaning with their backs against the mirror, the rest of the studio room spread out in front of them. 

Yuuri seems to waver for a moment, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. But then he takes a breath. 

“I almost quit dance. More than once, actually, during my freshman year of university.”

There’s a familiar bitterness there, but it’s faint. Victor waits, knowing this is one of those moments where he’s meant to listen. 

“I struggle with anxiety,” he continues, and it’s such a straightforward admission that Victor reels for a moment. “Performing was almost unbearable. I was so afraid of letting my family and my teachers down.” 

Yuuri laughs softly, a sound that’s so close to a sigh that Victor can barely discern the difference. 

“Mari, my older sister, noticed I was drowning. I was so close to giving in, so close to stopping dancing…” he breathes out, and this time it’s definitely a sigh. “I got help. Started seeing a therapist and found a way of managing my anxiety that works. I met my best friend, Phichit.” 

Victor is shaken as brown eyes catch and hold his with startling intensity. 

“I quit competing because it was too much, but I kept dancing. Is that weakness, Victor?” he asks.

Hardly daring to breathe, Victor shakes his head emphatically. “No, of course not Yuuri. But that’s different.” 

“How is it different, Victor?” 

Victor’s throat feels tight. What is he supposed to say, when Yuuri is strong, and he is not? 

The words he wants won’t come, so he gives what he can muster. “I should be better than that. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, and I should.” 

Yuuri’s widen fractionally. “Victor,” he says, and the gentle way he shapes his name has tears stinging Victor’s eyes. 

Here it is — the root of why Victor’s crashed so hard. 

Victor knows, objectively, that he can’t be perfect. Sometimes things don’t go his way, or he makes mistakes, and that’s okay. But he can’t internalize it. He’s been struggling for weeks, months,  _ years _ even to learn how to forgive himself. 

And he’s still not there. 

A fully formed tear drips down his face, and he’s ready to sink into the floor in embarrassment as he hurriedly lifts a hand to swipe it away. It stops in midair, however, and Victor looks up in confusion. 

Yuuri has caught his hand and is cradling it between his own, eyes big and shining with moisture. The gentleness of his hold is what breaks the dam holding back the rest of the tears. 

Victor leans forward, unconsciously seeking the comfort of Yuuri’s presence. Yuuri lets go of his hand, and Victor momentarily panics until the solid warmth of Yuuri’s hug envelops him. 

He still feels like the world is falling apart, but at least he’s not alone. Yuuri is mumbling softly under his breath, but it’s in Japanese rather than English, so Victor doesn’t understand a word. 

Not that it matters. The hug was what he needed. 

They stand there an embarrassingly long time until Victor collects himself. When he finally straightens up and wipes his face, he’s concerned to find Yuuri doing the same. 

“Yuuri?” he prompts. 

Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s okay.” 

He peers up at Victor, and Victor feels like Yuuri is looking straight through him. 

“Would you like to come up to my apartment for some tea? My roommate and I live above the studio.” 

Victor glances down at his watch, and realizes in horror that it’s far past when he normally walks Makkachin. 

“I’m sorry, can I take a rain check on that? I really need to go home and take poor Makkachin out,” he sighs. “He’s probably wondering where I am.” 

Yuuri smiles, and he looks like an angel even with his eyes red from crying. Victor is sure he looks worse, come to think of it. 

“Another time.”

Victor moves then, collecting his stuff, but pauses at the door. “Thank you, Yuuri.” 

“Any time, Victor.” He pauses, considering. “You have my number from the class group chat right? Feel free to text me.” 

The  _ if you need someone to talk to _ is left unspoken, but Victor understands and appreciates it anyway. 

“Goodnight, Yuuri.”

*

Victor does text Yuuri, though for more casual reasons than because he’s feeling low again. Texting Yuuri pictures of Makkachin or funny anecdotes from his day is nice. 

They don’t have tea at Yuuri’s apartment, but they do meet at the dog park one afternoon because Yuuri is desperate to meet Makkachin. Victor guesses he probably misses his own pup. 

Meeting Yuuri outside of dance class becomes more and more frequent as weeks go by. They get coffee, stroll in the park, or even duck into a museum on occasion. 

Victor finds himself looking forward to things again. 

It’s a feeling long forgotten, and he clutches it protectively to his chest. Yuuri breathes life back into his very existence. Victor is not so naive as to think that someone else can ‘fix’ him, because he doesn’t need to be fixed.

No, Yuuri inspires him. 

Yuuri, who struggled but still managed to come out the other side so incredibly strong. Yuuri, who finds joy in the small things and teaches Victor how to love life. 

Just Yuuri.

As the summer wanes into fall, Yuuri starts training harder for auditions. Victor’s not sure what inspired him to start dancing for an audience again, but he tries to be supportive. 

It cuts into their time together, so it’s forutate Victor is happy just to wander the aisles of the grocery store with him. 

This is Yuuri’s dream, long worked toward, and Victor revels in the quiet evenings where Yuuri lets him sit and watch him practice. 

When Yuuri dances, he creates music like Victor has never known, but wants to hear for the rest of his life. 

* 

Yuuri has the pleasure of observing Victor’s personality uncurl slowly, like a blossom in the sun.

It takes time, because these things do, but he smiles more. Victor’s smiles — heart-shaped and earnest — never fail to warm Yuuri all the way to his toes. 

They go out sometimes, on little outings that toe the line of  _ date _ but never have the title. More often, they simply slot into each other’s lives. 

Victor seems to love spending long evenings watching Yuuri in the studio, or trailing after him on one errand or another. And Yuuri finds that walking with Victor and Makkachin in the evenings settles his mind and helps him sleep. 

It’s peaceful. 

Victor reveals details about his life like he’s afraid the next small thing he confesses will drive Yuuri away. Yuuri understands this feeling as well as he understands himself, but it’s still heart breaking. 

Yuuri likes Victor for who he is, and that’s not going to change. 

He learns that Victor is finishing all the certifications that will allow him to be a translator in official capacities. He learns that Victor quit dance because he was pressured to pursue a profitable career, and then quit law school on turn because he hated it and could barely get out of bed some mornings. 

So many details of Victor’s life settle into place that Yuuri finally feels like he’s seeing the whole picture. 

Yuuri also realizes that he’s slowly but surely falling in love with this man. 

Phichit teases him relentlessly about it, but Yuuri doesn’t mind. Between dancing and Victor, this is the happiest he’s been in a long time. 

Of course, things are not always rosy and beautiful, and Yuuri has to fight for what he has. He’s working toward dancing in front of an audience again, which in turn presents challenges managing his anxiety. 

He can do it this time, though. Yuuri has his family, and Phichit, and Victor in his corner. This time, he’ll see his dream through.

*

Victor is fairly certain he must be confused, because when he steps into the usual studio room on a Monday night, Yuuri isn’t there. 

The rest of the class doesn’t seem especially concerned, but Victor sets his bag down with trepidation. 

“Hi everyone!” a voice chirps behind him, and he flinches in surprise as his classmates echo back greetings. 

It takes him a moment to place where he knows this person from. He’s short with jet black hair and a mischievous smile. Victor’s only seen him in passing, but this must be Yuuri’s roommate Phichit. 

As far as Victor can recall, Phichit’s also a dancer, though he’s still in school. 

Phichit claps his hands together cheerfully and the class shuffles into a loose sense of order. “I’m taking over for Yuuri today! Let’s have some fun!”

Victor is baffled that no one seems the least bit concerned. 

Phichit is a very different kind of instructor than Yuuri, but the class doesn’t seem to mind. He’s peppy and teaches with a different sort of light-heartedness than Victor is used to. Victor might enjoy the class if he wasn’t too busy worrying about what has kept Yuuri away. 

The worry hangs like a rain-burdened cloud at the back of his conscious, even as he works to focus on literally anything else.

It takes effort not to pester Phichit for answers when they break for water, but Victor is well schooled in social graces.

He makes himself wait until more than half the class has trickled out at the end before approaching Phichit. 

In theory, Phichit is probably the easiest person in the world to approach given his good nature, but nerves make Victor’s stomach churn. Phichit is someone very important to Yuuri, and Victor can’t afford to screw this up. 

“Ah, the elusive Victor Nikiforov!” Phichit says before Victor even opens his mouth. “Yuuri never shuts up about you.” 

Victor’s brain feels roughly like an iPhone that’s been dropped in a lake. “Uhhhh?"

Phichit grins and gives his elbow a friendly pat. “I’m so glad I get to meet you at last!”

“About that,” Victor says, valiantly attempting to reel his thoughts in. “Why are you teaching class tonight? Is Yuuri okay?”

Something in Phichit’s expression shifts, and he gives Victor a long, thoughtful look. 

“He took a mental health day.”

Victor blinks. A mental health day? It’s a concept he’s heard of, but never applied to his own life.

“Oh.”

That stills sounds like something he should be worried about. 

Phichit reads him like a book. “Don’t worry so much, Yuuri is incredibly resilient.”

Exhaling, Victor forces the knot in his chest to loosen. Phichit is right. Yuuri has proven himself to be hardy in a way his soft demeanor doesn’t betray. 

“Thanks, Phichit,” he sighs. “Sorry for holding you up, I should get going.” 

“Not to worry,” Phichit reassures him. “I’m always happy to chat.”

Victor is nearly to the door when Phichit calls after him, “Oh, and Victor? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you texted him.” 

He agonizes over what to send the entire way home and in the end, he sends a picture of a Makkachin. 

_ [Victor - 9:43pm] _

*image*

Makkachin says feel better soon! <3

_ [Yuuri - 11:58pm] _

thank you

*

Yuuri always feels guilty when he has to miss his classes for one of these days, even when he knows they’re in Phichit or Yuuko or Minako’s capable hands. 

He knows that in the long run, this is the better choice. Taking a day to sort himself out is better than letting his anxiety snowball into something much worse. 

It’s a lesson that’s taken him years to learn, and more often than not he still needs reminders from the people that care about him. 

The better part of his day is spent holed up in the studio room that Minako set aside solely for his private use. 

Yuuri dances and he doesn’t. He lays on the floor and listens to his favorite playlist, he calls his parents, he makes ridiculous noises at Vicchan over video call. He talks through his worries with his therapist over the phone, and she gives him things to work on. 

At the end of the day, he feels less like the world is going to crumble in on him. 

He curls up under the covers and let’s his eyelids fall closed, but his brain spins through cycles of all the things that make his chest tight. He breathes through them, slow and rhythmic. Falling asleep is always the worst part. 

Yuuri reaches for his phone after nearly an hour of this, resigned to watching at least one soothing youtube video before he manages to sleep for real. 

A notification blinks up at him and he clicks into it on reflex. Makkachin’s face fills the screen, tongue lolling out and eyes soft.

The message that accompanies it makes him swallow hard. 

Victor is kind and thoughtful, and all Yuuri can think to say in response is a simple and raw  _ thank you _ .

Thank you for noticing. Thank you for caring. Thank you for thinking of me long enough to send a text. 

Just. Thank you. 

*

Victor sticks close to Yuuri as Yuuri pushes himself to his physical and mental limits. The audition has come and gone, and to the surprise of absolutely nobody, Yuuri got the lead spot. 

It’s a lot of pressure, but Victor is confident in Yuuri’s abilities even if Yuuri wavers on occasion.

He’s had to buckle down himself for exams, which means sometimes he has to miss the evening adult class to study. Weeks drag when that happens, making his mind heavy when he needs it functioning on full power. 

Yuuri texts him more frequently when he has to miss, as if he knows Victor is struggling. Maybe he does. 

Victor’s not used to people noticing his feelings, and it’s the source of a warm ache in his chest when Yuuri does. It’s part of the reason Victor starts learning Japanese in addition to studying. 

Yes, he intends to be a translator and the more languages he knows, the more marketable he is, but he has different motivations. Really, he wants to understand the language closest to Yuuri. 

There are some things about languages that are universal, and others that are very specific traits — social nuances that tell silent secrets about their speaker. 

Every language has its own idiosyncrasies and quirks, and it’s part of why Victor wants to make them his life’s work. 

It’s the easiest way for him to understand people — through their use of language. 

*

Yuuko teaches some of the adult classes when Yuuri is tied up at rehearsals and Phichit is back in school. The triplets sit on the floor and either critique people’s dance form or color stick figures in tutus.

No one seems to mind them, which Victor thinks is convenient because they deal out scalding criticism. 

It’s clear that they’re born and bred for dance, and that even though Yuuko no longer dances professionally, love for the discipline still thrums through their veins. 

“Are they getting to you, Victor?” Yuuko teases when he misses a step in his thoughtful distraction. 

Victor laughs, a warm sound that he’s found bubbling out of him more and more. 

“Of course not. I’ve had scarier instructors than them.” 

Yuuko smiles wickedly, and Victor comes to regret being so dismissive because the triplets are nothing if not insatiable dance fans. 

They manage to dredge up a really old video of Victor dancing in his younger days, before giving it up ever became a conscious thought. They’re thrilled, eyes glued to the screen. 

“You were so good!” one of them shrieks, and Victor decides not to take that as a dig at his current state. 

He finds himself on the opposite side of the studio, unconsciously avoiding the future he’d given up playing out on tinny phone speakers. The younger version of himself in the video probably has long hair and an innocent smile — blissfully ignorant of the pressure about to be foisted onto him. 

Wishing for the past is a futile effort, one he knows he needs to let go of in order to move forward. But sometimes it’s just so hard. 

A hand on his elbow brings him back and Yuuko peers up at him. “I can make them turn it off,” she offers. 

Victor takes a breath and tries to settle himself. “It’s okay. I need to learn to let it go.” 

Yuuko’s brows furrow into what Victor can only guess is a motherly scowl. “Cut yourself some slack, Victor,” she chides gently, giving his arm a squeeze. “These things take time.” 

Victor is searching for an answer when she crosses the room and plucks the phone up, sending her three daughters off to find their father. 

Class is uneventful after that, but her words and gentle touch linger. 

*

Minako returns from traveling abroad with the master students, but even then Victor rarely sees her. She and Yuuri train mostly during the day when Victor is working. 

It’s hard to get a read on her at first. She’s very much a classic advanced dance teacher in some ways, but in others… she’s interesting to say the least.

Yuuri both respects her and has a strange familial relationship with her that Victor can’t pin down. 

“She’s like my wine aunt I guess. She’s been my mom’s best friend since school,” Yuuri explained, shrugging when Victor asked. 

So his impression is that she’s a hardass teacher but someone Yuuri views as part of his family. Victor doesn’t have a whole lot of positive experience with family, and resolves to just roll with it.

Minako pokes her head in late one evening. Yuuri is rehearsing and Victor is sitting on the floor, the study materials for his final licensing exam spread out around him. 

“Ah, Victor, you’re here,” she says offhandedly, eyes on Yuuri. 

Yuuri doesn’t seem to have even noticed her arrival. 

He’s like that more often now — so focused that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s going on around him. His dedication to dance is frankly admirable.

Victor shrugs in response to Minako’s observation. She looms over him, lips pursed in contemplation. 

“Yuuri, I’m taking Victor drinking!” 

“Huh?!”

Yuuri doesn’t look up from his spot at the mirror. “Even you can’t out-drink a Russian, Minako-sensei. Try not to have too much fun.” 

That… sounds an awful lot like Yuuri giving Minako permission to drag Victor off to the bar. 

“But Yuuri,” Victor protests weakly. 

“You need to take a break from studying,” Yuuri says, like a hypocrite. 

There’s no arguing with him, so Victor begrudgingly packs up his study materials. 

Minako is smug as he trails her out of the studio and down to street level. The night is still young, the evening crowd only beginning to trickle out of their hidey holes. 

“Don’t be so stiff,” she huffs, tugging at the sleeves of her long coat. It’s a similar cut to Victor’s own, and he can appreciate her taste. “I don’t bite.” 

Victor musters up one of his charming smiles. “I’m sure you don’t. Where are we going?”

“My favorite hole in the wall, it’s not crowded.” 

She’s right, and it’s to Victor’s tastes with decent music drifting over the speakers. They don’t speak until drinks have been poured and Victor’s had a healthy helping of his. 

“Yuuri told me that you were a dancer?” Minako says over the rim over her glass. 

_ Damn.  _ Cutting to the quick on the first go. 

Victor knocks back more of his drink than he probably should before responding. “I was.”

He doesn’t elaborate beyond that, and surprisingly she doesn’t pry further. Instead she purses her lips thoughtfully. 

“He’s good for you, I think. Which is amazing considering how far he’s come,” she muses. “This should be the part where I warn you off hurting him, but I’m actually not worried.” 

Victor blinks, stunned. There’s too much to unpack for him to know where to begin. 

Minako takes pity on him and orders him another drink before dropping a companionable hand on his shoulder. 

“No offense intended. I’ve known Yuuri since before he got his first pair of pointe shoes.” 

“So you don’t see me as worthy?” Victor wants to sound bitter, but ends up just sounding resigned. 

It’s Minako’s turn to stare at him. “What? No. I’m rooting for you, silly.”

This makes absolutely no sense at all. Victor is going to need several more drinks to get through this conversation. 

Minako takes a swig of her whiskey. “You make Yuuri happy, and that’s all there is to it.” 

_ He _ makes  _ Yuuri _ happy? 

That’s not something Victor has ever considered before. He knows Yuuri’s role in his own life, but has struggled to grasp where he fits into Yuuri’s. Yuuri has family and friends who care deeply about him — he doesn’t need Victor the way Victor needs him. 

But if he can make Yuuri happy…. Then maybe, maybe this is something that can last. 

An arm drops across his shoulders and Victor is dragged into an affectionate side hug. 

“Silly boy,” Minako says. “You’re welcome here.” 

And suddenly, there is a place in the world for one lost man. 

“Thank you.” 

*

  
“Yuuuuuurriiii,” Victor sighs his name out, more in amusement than complaint about Yuuri’s terrible puns. 

Yuuri cradles his phone to his ear and smiles secretly to himself. Every single one of his muscles ache and he’s danced probably seventy-five percent or more of every day in the last six weeks, but he’s happy. 

Opening night is three days away and he feels good about it. 

“I know, I know,” Yuuri chuckles. “When you go in tomorrow for class find Yuuko. I gave her your tickets.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line and Yuuri waits for Victor to find his words. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Victor,” Yuuri chides softly. “Of course I want you there.” 

Victor’s breathing on the other end of the line is shaky and it squeezes Yuuri’s heart. “Then I’ll be there. You’re going to be amazing, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri blinks back the tears that sting at the corners of his eyes. He’s not sad, just… leaking feelings. Victor has become an essential piece of his life, and the fact that he’s going to be there to witness Yuuri finally take his stand is astronomical. 

_ Oh, he’s going to cry for sure.  _

He’s going to cry big, happy tears when he takes his final bow and finds Victor in the crowd. Yuuri is certain. 

*

Victor double checks the seat number on his ticket, even though the usher has already pointed him in the right direction. Yuuri must have gotten the first pick of exclusive tickets, because it’s in the most ideal spot. 

He finds his seat and is ready to sink down into the chair when he realizes several sets of eyes are watching him. 

Minako, Phichit, and Yuuko he knows, but there are three that are oddly familiar. 

“Victor!” Yuuko chirps cheerily. “Perfect timing. These are the Katsukis.” 

Yuuri’s family. It’s his first time meeting them, and a part of him is distantly terrified that he won’t make a good impression. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” he says formally. 

Mari looks amused, but Hiroko and Toshiya are delighted.

“We’re glad we get to finally meet you, Victor. Yuuri has told us so much about you,” Hiroko says, her kind brown eyes a perfect copy of Yuuri’s.

It’s enough to break the ice and chatter flows between them until the lights go down — a hush falling across the entire auditorium. As much as Victor is now curious about Yuuri’s family, his attention is on the stage and Yuuri himself. 

And Yuuri is gorgeous. Victor has seen small pieces of the entire thing when Yuuri was rehearsing, but put together with his fellow dancers and the music rising from the orchestra pit… Victor is blown away. 

He’s riveted to his seat, hardly noticing the passage of time.

When tears start sliding now his face Hiroko leans in close and presses a handkerchief into his hand, her own eyes bright and watery. Toshiya isn’t faring much better, Mari probably has the only dry eyes in their row. 

Victor feels so many things, and it’s good. It’s intense, but after feeling so little for so long, it’s a relief. 

Yuuri strikes his final pose and his eyes lock onto Victor’s in the crowd, warm brown aglow under the stage lights. Victor has tears streaming down his cheeks, Hiroko’s handkerchief forgotten and crumpled in his fist. 

On stage, Yuuri is smiling too, a hand clutched to his chest and Victor thinks his heart is going to burst. 

All he can do is smile so that Yuuri knows without him saying just how good it was.

The dancers take their final bows and start filing off the stage as the house lights come back on, but Victor remains still, the spell unbroken. 

Hiroko leans over and gives him the softest hug he’s ever experienced. “Go get him, Vicchan.” 

Victor goes. His life and love awaits. 

*

Victor is waiting off to the side as the rest of the audience streams out, roses cradled in his arms when Yuuri finds him. 

His eyes are a little red but the smile on his face when he spots Yuuri in return is wide and earnest. 

“You were amazing,” he says, and Yuuri absorbs the words into his very soul as he leans in and kisses Victor. 

There’s no hesitation in the way Victor kisses him back, like this is something they were born to do. Yuuri knows he’s certainly been ready for a while. 

But this is right. 

Yuuri leans back just a little to kiss Victor’s nose, and then his forehead. Victor smiles, his eyes crinkling softly and  _ god _ Yuuri wants him to look this way always. 

“Boyfriends?” Victor asks, shy and bold all at once. 

“I kissed you first,” Yuuri teases. “Shouldn’t I ask?”

Victor pouts at him then, and it’s too tempting for Yuuri not to steal another long, slow kiss. 

The answer is pretty obvious anyway. It took them awhile to get here — both of them had things to work out for themselves — but they made it. 

Yuuri is managing his anxiety and dancing his dream, and Victor has begun to move into a better, happier place in his life. It won’t always be smooth sailing, but they’ll be together. 

Victor gathers Yuuri into his arms, barely avoiding squashing the roses. His breath tickles the side of Yuuri’s throat as he murmurs, “Is it too early to say that I love you, Yuuri? Because I do.” 

Yuuri nuzzles his face into Victor’s soft hair. “No, I love you too. I’ve loved you for a while.”

A soft exhale — relieved and exalting. 

“Let’s conquer the world together, Yuuri.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me @carry-a-world on tumblr or @carry_a_world on twitter :') title is from Deep Water by American Authors
> 
> this fic was an opportunity for me to explore how Yuuri might handle his anxiety, and Victor his depression, so I hope I did a decent job getting that across.


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